


Drokken Quest

by derry667



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Angel Book of Days Challenge, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-03
Updated: 2003-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-31 03:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derry667/pseuds/derry667
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set pre-series, spoilers to end s2.<br/>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drokken Quest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justhuman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justhuman/gifts).



_"In the Ages of Man, Summer is young adulthood,  
that time of youth and vitality when we believe that everything is possible  
and nothing can stop us."  
_ Angel Book of Days – Summer Challenge

The group of hunters had broken up, each following his or her own path. Tracking the trail of violent emotion that would lead them to the beast – eventually. 

However, their prey was not the only being emitting strong waves of irritation and a desire to inflict violence on the party of hunters. Krevlorneswath of the Deathwok Clan found himself vaguely worried that he might end up getting poked with a thromite-dipped sword before the day was through, as he petulantly trailed after his cousin Landokmar, slashing at passing branches with his own blade. He hated being there. He wouldn’t have come if Landok hadn’t forced him into it. And really these branches needed a decent pruning, anyway.

"It would be better not to alert the drokken to our approach, Krevlorneswath." Landok spoke evenly, but clearly he was not feeling overly cheerful either.

Then again, these hero types never seemed to be very cheerful, Krevlorneswath reflected. All that training they did probably sucked all the humour out of them. Landok had always been reasonably pleasant company in the past, but he had been becoming steadily terser and less sociable since he had commenced the "great honour" of training to become a "champion".

"It would be better if we just left the drokken in peace. And I’ve asked you to call me ‘Lorne’ several times today already, Landok."

"The drokken know no peace. And we will know no peace until this hunt is completed – successfully. And I do not need you to shorten *my* name, Krevlorneswath. I do not care what the current fashion is down at the waterhole."

"The current fashion is to let the cool, cool water sooth away all that hot irritation, Landokmar. And on a hot and humid and distinctly uncomfortable day, such as today, it would be the most suitable place for any warrior to be."

"No warrior would waste such a perfect day for hunting drokken. I have already explained to you how the heat and humidity serve to increase the beast's irritation levels, making tracking it easier to track. If you would submit to the training..."

"They didn’t want to train me."

"Not at first, but I spoke with the constable. I explained that as a member of the Deathwok Clan, you had the right..."

"Yes, thank you for that. It gave my mother yet another opportunity to tell the whole village how I would disgrace the clan yet again."

"And you could have proven her wrong by accepting the training and becoming a skilled hunter."

"Or I could those joined those two out of every five students that are horribly killed during training each year."

"Is it death you fear? Lack of honour is an even higher price."

"Well, death isn’t something I particularly want to go chasing. I don’t really expect you o understand that. I don’t really want to go chasing failure and giving my life-giver another opportunity to wail and bemoan having such a useless son again either."

"So rather than fail, you would not even try."

"Well, I’m here now, aren’t I? And it’s because of you again, isn’t it? The Deathwok Clan needs one more warrior to represent it and you offer them my name?"

"Many others would have been honoured by the opportunity to join forces with other clans and hunt down the fearsome drokken, to herd it into a place where it cannot escape and cut out its heart."

"I’m beginning to feel sorry for this drokken."

Landok turned and looked at his cousin for the first time since the hunt had begun. His gaze was sombre and intense, but not without sympathy. "You won’t feel any sympathy if it manages to sink its teeth into your flesh. The venom is excruciatingly painful and usually lethal. So, if you would genuinely prefer to avoid death, keep quiet!" 

Suddenly, he tensed and looked away over his shoulder. "The beast’s aura intensifies, it is drawing nearer."

Lorne followed his gaze. Actually, he could sense it too, even though he’d never even attempted the training. This drokken had to be very, very angry or very, very near. 

Feeling his nervousness soar, Lorne scanned his surroundings and silently cursed his cousin for dragging him here. Even if he was holding a thromite-dipped weapon in his hand, he still had never been trained to use it. 

The only reason that he had come on this Drokken Quest was because knew that Landok had made it a point of honour that there would be a full party of warriors from the Deathwok Clan. Honour was very important to Landok – his own honour and the honour of his clan. Landokmar would rather die than see that honour tarnished. 

And well, just maybe Lorne could scrounge up a little family loyalty for Landok’s sake. 

Landok was, after all, the only member of the family who had ever made any effort on behalf of "Krevlorneswath the Unworthy Cretin". Lorne couldn’t help feeling both grateful and exasperated by Landok’s stubborn refusal to see that his cousin was neither capable of nor interested in becoming a warrior. Landok would even argue with Lorne’s mother that her youngest son had adequate potential to be a champion – and no one else ever dared to contradict the mighty matriarch.

Lorne was about to sigh when Landok raised his hand in a gesture of warning. The young warrior stared into the forest depths and then plunged into the dense undergrowth, leaving Lorne bewildered and almost twitching with fear.

The violent urges of the drokken flooded the area, which did nothing to instil a warrior’s courage within him. And when he heard a noise in the bushes behind him, he tripped over his sword as he scrambled to back away. He stared hard at the bushes, but there no more movement from that direction and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Of course, that was when he heard a low growl somewhere to his left. His head whipped around and at that same moment the drokken pounced.

Lorne frantically rolled out of its path and let out a scream of pure terror. The drokken landed heavily and had to regain it balance before attacking again.

Lorne realised that he’d dropped his sword. The only thing that he had to protect himself from a drooling, growling, ravenous drokken and he’d dropped it! He screamed again as he ducked under the claw that the drokken swiped at him.

And where were the mighty drokken hunters, the ones who were training for precisely this sort of activity?

Lorne’s screams became more articulate.

"Landok! Landokmar of the Deathwok Clan! Landok, I've found the drokken!"

He dived for the sword that lay an arm’s length away from him on the ground. Great, he had a sword now, but it suddenly looked ridiculously flimsy. This weapon would never even pierce the tough hide of the drokken, let alone deliver a killing blow or cut out its heart. They were going to need more swords, bigger swords, lots more really big swords!

"Landok! Landokmar!"

Lorne slashed wildly in the air with the blade, hoping it might at least help deter the beast. The drokken let out another low growl and tilted its head at Lorne, as if it was considering exactly what part of him it was going to devour first.

Then it attacked again, a huge leap that brought it directly down over where Lorne was standing. He yelped, thrust his sword in the air and tried to roll out of the way again. This time a sharp claw raked his side and his scream became one of pain. But the words were still his cousin’s name.

"Landokmar."

This time the word ended in a sob.

Lorne looked up to see the drokken taking its time in coming back towards him, again tilting its head in that almost casual contemplative way.

The sword was still in his hand, so he again thrust in the direction of the creature as it bore down on him. This time he closed his eyes as he did so. The hot, moist, fetid breath of the drokken filled his senses. Pain ripped through his sword arm, excruciating pain like he’d never felt before. And Landok’s words about the venom rang through his head... strangely mixed with the same voice calling his own name.

He tried to reopen his eyes, but it was like he had fallen into a dark void. He tried to answer Landok, but there was no strength left in his body. He felt himself hit the ground, as if he had been dropped from a great height. Then there was only pain, darkness, the foul slobbering breath of the drokken... and the sound of Landok shouting to him.

And then everything faded away.

***

It was still dark, still hot, still humid, and he could still hear Landok's voice.

"I tell you, he was fighting the drokken single-handed before he was wounded. If I had not arrived, he would have died a warrior's death."

"I cannot believe that Krevlorneswath has suddenly became a skilled hunter." That was his dear, dear life giver. Never likely to believe anything that might show him to be anything other than a shame on the family. Of course, she was right in this case, but it would have been nice if she for once showed a little blind faith in her youngest son.

"Nonetheless, it was he who found the drokken."

"How? He cannot track the creature. He would not even submit to training. Such a coward! How I wish that I could say that he was no son of mine!"

"He is *not* a coward!" Anger from Landok. Why did that create both satisfaction and fear in his heart? "When I came upon them, he was attacking the drokken, shouting a fearsome battle cry! The beast wounded him and he fell. He may not have the skill, but his heart is as true as any warrior in the clan!"

"Fearsome battle cry?" Another voice entered the conversation. He couldn't quite place it.

"Yes, Narwek." Landok's voice was guarded as he addressed the newcomer and for some reason, at that moment, Lorne felt compelled to open his eyes.

Narwek's eye glittered triumphantly, as the corpulent little toad walked towards where the Lorne's mother and cousin were standing.

"A battle cry that consisted of him screaming 'Landok! Landok, where are you?' in a voice filled with fear?" He bowed a little to Lorne's mother. "Forgive me, gracious clanswoman," he said, his tone devoid of apology, "I happened to see your son's battle with the drokken and it was not as brave as his noble cousin has said."

"Do you call me a liar, Narwek?" Landok's tone was low and menacing.

Narwek took a step backwards. "No! Not at all, Landokmar! It is simply that I saw the whole of his battle with the drokken, while you only saw the end of it. You did not see how cravenly your cousin behaved."

"If you saw it all, why did you not join him in his fight with the drokken? Why is it that I did not see you fighting at his side when I arrived at the end of the battle?"

Now Narwek looked very nervous. "Well, I could see him... but it wasn't easy to get near him to help fight the drokken... a lot of obstacles in my way. And when I was almost there, you arrived and you slew the creature so quickly. I saw I wasn't needed..."

Landok sneered, "And you would call Krevlorneswath craven? He, at least, has wounds to prove his valour. The drokken nearly took his life."

And then his dear mother spoke again. "Even if Narwek actions were also cowardly, it does not mean that he is not speaking the truth about Krevlorneswath's actions. If he did indeed watch the whole incident, then he would know. And I certainly find it difficult to believe that my worthless son challenged a drokken single-handed."

Lorne tried to tell himself that he found these words reassuring actually. After all, if his mother had suddenly started to believe that he wasn't totally hopeless, then there had to be something fundamentally wrong with the world. He would have to suspect that he was delirious – maybe even dying from a venomous drokken bite.

But that was the problem wasn't it? He actually *had* fought a drokken single-handedly. Admittedly, that had been because he had no choice in the matter. But still, he *had* done it. 

And yes, he had called on his cousin for help. And yes, perhaps he had screamed Landok's name in fear. But facing an enraged drokken was a terrifying prospect, especially when the only thing between you and the drokken is a flimsy sword, whether that sword has been dipped in thromite or not. And especially when it’s a sword that you have no idea how to wield, too.

And where had Narwek been? Unable to reach him? Lorne snorted softly. Narwek had no doubt been that noise he had herd in the moving bushes nearby. He must have stayed in hiding even after Landok arrived. 

He felt a vague sense of satisfaction. At least, Krevlorneswath of the Deathwok Clan, did not hide his cowardice behind blatant lies.

He heard footsteps moving towards him and his mother's voice. "Krevlorneswath?"

With some effort, he opened his eyes and saw her approaching where lay – on his own bed at home, as it turned out.

It would have been nice if he could see any hint of concern in her gaze But no, there was just mild surprise, mixed with the ever-present irritation. "You are awake?"

Lorne would have shrugged, if he'd had the energy and his arm didn't hurt so much. As it was, he managed a faint nod, even as he let his eyes close again.

"That is good. The healer thought the drokken venom would keep you unconscious for the rest of the day, maybe even the whole of tomorrow." Landok's voice *did* sound concerned and Lorne struggled to open his eyes, trying to see if the concern was really there, visible on Landok's face.

But he only caught a glimpse of his cousin's face in the shadows before Landok turned from him again. Turned to face Lorne's mother and that odious little Narwek. "So, Krevlorneswath is stronger than any of you know. He struggles against the deadly poison of the drokken and overcomes it quicker than any thought possible."

"Or perhaps the bite was not as deep as you and the healer feared?" said Narwek.

Lorne found the energy to glare at him. The bite had certainly *felt* deep. Who was this cow-bullying little pest, this worthless lying coward who hid amongst the bushes while others were fighting for their lives, who was he to say how deep or life-threatening Lorne's wounds were?

"You are probably right, Narwek."

Lorne felt his mother's words coldly slice through him like a sword composed of pure ice – probably dipped in thromite. His mother, his *life-giver*, and she would take the side of someone like Narwek against her own son. His anger instantly melted into despair. What was the point of even trying?

But even as his anger dissipated, it seemed that Landok's was fit to explode.

"You know nothing, Narwek!" His cousin spat. "You were not there fighting the drokken. You were not as close as I to Krevlorneswath, when the blow from the drokken felled him. If, like I, you had come to fight at his side, you might have seen. But you..." And now Landok's mouth curled into a definite sneer. "You were 'too far away' to reach us and participate in the battle. You were only close enough to mistake a battle cry for fearful screams. So do not tell me that you know what happened better than I!"

Narwek looked nervous but then a defiance sparked in his eyes. "They say your potential as a hunter and a warrior is great, Landok. But do not forget whose father is constable here and who has the favour of the priests."

That did not seem to frighten Landok at all who took another step towards Narwek.

But it terrified Lorne. He knew the power that the priesthood had. He knew that Narwek and his father would not hesitate to use the influence they had gained by fawning and grovelling to the priesthood to destroy anyone who threatened them. He knew the priests would not care about the facts or Landok's side of the story. They would just believe their flattering henchmen. 

Landok would be discredited. He would lose his reputation as a promising young warrior, perhaps even a champion in the future. Everything that he had trained so hard and so long for would be wasted.

And for what? To defend the reputation of Krevlorneswath of the Deathwok Clan, otherwise known as "my cretinous son" to his own mother?

No, that certainly wasn't going to happen.

"No, Landok," Lorne said with all the strength he could muster.

"Krevlorneswath?" Landok's voice still held a note of concern, even though he also sounded irritated by the interruption. Lorne didn't answer immediately, still trying to catch his breath, his eyes fluttering closed again with the effort. The concern in his cousin's voice deepened. "Lorne?"

Another deep breath and Lorne opened his eyes again. "Narwek's right"

"He is *not*!"

"He *is*." The effort had him gasping for breath, but Lorne struggled to continue. *He* would not hide behind a lie. "I never... challenged... the drokken." Lorne closed his eyes retreating from the sparks that invaded his vision and from the sense of betrayal that clouded his cousin's face. "Drokken... found me... I just... screamed... for help..." 

And now having his eyes closed didn't help because he could sense Landok's shock at this perceived treachery through the his aura. 

Opening his eyes again almost took more strength than Lorne possessed, but he had to look at Landok as he said this. "Sorry," he whispered and then let the weakness drag him down into oblivion.

***

When awareness returned to him, Lorne found that could still sense his cousin, nearby and burning with resentment. It made him want to just fade away again, or maybe even permanently. He wanted to leave this world behind. He had no place here. And very soon, he knew that he would have no one in this world who cared about his fate or honour or well-being.

But now he also knew, beyond any doubt, that he was *not* a coward. Oh, the fools that made up his clan, his village, even the whole world he lived in, they might think so. But they were wrong. The stupid narrow definitions they used to describe things such as courage and honour were wrong.

Lorne had the courage to know who he was and admit it to the world. He had the courage to stand apart from everyone else and not be a servile puppet to the expectations of a society that cared only for the outward physical appearance of courage and strength.

Narwek would probably go far in this place. He had no real courage and no real loyalty, but he knew how to fabricate its appearance. He could and would lie his way into a position of power, just as his father had done before him. 

There was no justice in it. Falsehood would be judged to be courage and honour and truth would be branded as cowardice and treated with ignominy.

And Landok would be no different from all the rest.

Lorne opened his eyes to find himself, still lying on his own rough cot in the most insignificant, hidden-away room in his mother's house. His beloved life-giver and the valiant Narwek had apparently departed, but Landok was still there, sitting at the foot of the cot and staring out the door. His face was devoid of expression, but his aura radiated anger and disgust.

Lorne found that he felt a little stronger than the last time he awoke, although his throat still felt as dry as the cobblestones that he knew were baking in the summer sun outside, He swallowed a few to try to moisten his mouth. He did it quiet audibly, although Landok showed no signs of reacting to the sound.

"Landokmar?" It was a weak croak, but at least it didn't leave him out of breath.

Landok snorted softly at that, and dropped his gaze to his lap. "The only time you address me so, Krevlorneswath, is when you are shamed by something or desperate for my help."

Lorne bristled. "Not ashamed," he rasped, although he did think that his voice was sounding slightly better.

"No?" Landok's voice was tight with anger and yet he still would not look his cousin. "You have shamed us *both*, Krevlorneswath of the Deathwok Clan."

"No." Lorne could tell that Landok believed it true, but he didn't. He couldn't.

Landok rounded on him now and the burning fury in his eyes would once have had Lorne desperate to placate him. But this time, although the angry gaze still hurt, he felt no anxiety over it. He had stood his ground twice today already – against the claws and teeth of the drokken and against the derision of his mother and Narwek. He would stand his ground here too, even though he realised the losses of this battle could prove more costly than either of the others.

"You have branded me a liar and taken cowardice upon yourself!" Landok spat at him. "You do not call this shame?"

"I am not a coward."

Landok eyes narrowed, dangerously. "But I am a liar?"

"That depends on what you told them happened with the drokken. Did you deny that I called on you for help? Because I certainly did and I cannot believe that you did not hear me. If you said otherwise, it was a lie."

Landok flinched. "I know that you do not care at all about your own reputation. I suppose I should not be surprised that you do not care about mine either."

That stung Lorne bitterly. Part of the reason he had done it was to save Landok's reputation and preserve his future as a warrior for their clan. This lie to protect his cousin would be understood and forgiven, perhaps even privately lauded, by the clan and the rest of the town. 

If they had tried to discredit the constable's son, Landok's reputation would undoubtedly been destroyed. Narwek's father had ruined other honourable men before with campaigns of innuendo and plausible lies.

And yet, after Lorne had taken the majority of the shame upon himself, Landok could only see how *he* would be disadvantaged.

"I did not ask you to lie for me. I did not ask you to take me with you on this drokken hunt. Thank you for saving my life. I *did* ask for that. But I neither asked for nor wanted the other 'honours' you tried to give me, so do not expect me to lie for you out of gratitude."

Landok stood abruptly and walked to the door. "You truly have no shame."

Lorne found himself almost shaking with anger and managed to raise himself slightly from his bed. "I speak the *truth*, Landok. I told you that I believed the warrior training was pointless and foolishly dangerous. That was true! I told you that I never wanted to be a warrior and I didn't care if the rest of the clan thought it an honour because I *didn't*. That was true too! And I told you that I never wanted to go with you on this drokken hunt, that someone would probably get hurt maybe even killed, just to hunt a creature that was probably leaving the village to find better prey in the forest, anyway. And that was definitely true! Someone *did* get hurt, nearly killed! *Me*!"

Landok turned back and said coldly. "A life spent skulking around in fear is not worth having. And yet you clutch at it so desperately. I would be ashamed to live as you do. No honour. No respect for honour. Do not fear, I will never ask you to come with me on a warrior quest again. Go back to the waterhole where the females too have no honour and no respect. If I were you, I would rather throw myself into the sacrificial canyons of Trelinsk."

Lorne held his gaze and said with equal coldness. "But you are not me."

"No, and I am thankful that I am not. Goodbye, Krevlorneswath." There was a dreadful finality in the words, as he walked out the door without any trace of regret in his face or tone or aura.

But Lorne ached with regret as said, "Goodbye, Landokmar" to the empty doorway.

Now he truly had no family.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ~ JustHuman. Prompt: Lorne, genre: adventure. ~ No songfic, no extreme violence upon Lorne.
> 
> Author's notes ~ This has not been beta-ed because I am a bad, bad girl who leaves her fic-writing to the very last minute. Sorry, guys


End file.
